Missing Scene for The Replacement, between the end of the
gunfight and the tag

Summary: Take a close look at Slim and Jess standing side by
side at the end of the gunfight. Neither one looks happy, and they don’t look
comfortable with each other, either. How did they work through the differences
that had led them to be on opposite sides of that gunfight?

Author’s note: Thanks again to Hired Hand for her excellent
and thought-provoking beta.(4-27-11)

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"True friendship is sitting together in silence and
feeling like it was the best conversation you've ever had." Unknown

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As
the gunsmoke cleared from the suddenly silent main street of Laramie, carried
away on the freshening breeze, Jess Harper and Slim Sherman found themselves
standing side by side behind the wagon.

Jess
risked a quick glance up at Slim’s face as he holstered his iron. The big man’s
expression was unreadable and Jess’ heart sank. What he’d just done, walking
down the street with the other ex-Rebels, might have finished the most
important friendship of his life. He couldn’t blame the tall man for that; all
the responsibility for his actions rested solely, and heavily, on his own shoulders.
Jess gathered up his courage and raised his gaze to meet Slim’s pale blue eyes,
seeing the disappointment written there.

He
didn’t fault Slim for his reaction. He couldn’t.

He’d
always known the big man had a limit, and with a feeling of utter despair, Jess
knew that he’d just passed it. The law mattered to Slim, and Jess couldn’t
forget Slim’s words that night in front of the saloon, about how, if he
couldn’t let go of his past, Jess would be in trouble, with the law, and with
Slim, too.

His
past had once again reared up and knocked him flat; the past that seemed like
it would never stop plaguing him, never let him live the good life Slim had
shown him. Slim had tried so hard, and Jess knew he had let his friend down.

Again.

Though
standing side by side, they might as well have been a thousand miles apart.

The
silence stretching between them was deafening.

Wordlessly,
Jess turned away and looked back to see Knute Duncan standing forlornly in the
street, looking down at his brother’s body,alone, confused, scared, lost. Johnny Duncan was dead by Jess’ gun, but
the cowboy felt no regrets for that. Johnny had pushed them all into seeking
retribution against Paul Halleck when all along their vengeance had been based
on a lie. Johnny had been the driving force behind the confrontation, egging
them on to fight because of what Halleck had supposedly done to Knute. But it
had all been revealed as a cover-up of the truth, of the fact that it had been
Johnny who had beaten his own brother, pinning the blame on the Yankee captain,
fanning and directing their hatred at the wrong man.

To
Jess, there was nothing more loathsome than what Johnny had done, turning on
his own brother and nearly killing him.

And
with his lies, Duncan had brought Jess near to doing the same to the man he
considered a brother as much as if they were blood kin.

Jess
felt lower than the soles of his boots. What an ugly, unforgiveable mess he’d
dragged Slim, and Mort, into.

If
either one of them had been hurt, their blood would have been on his hands.

Johnny
had played him like a cheap fiddle, using his friendship for Knute against him,
using the bond forged between men who’d fought side by side during the war,
tainting it.

Jess
looked across at Slim, his glance sliding quickly across the tall rancher’s
face because Jess couldn’t meet the ice-blue eyes. He couldn’t say anything,
his mouth simply refused to work.His thoughts
were flooded with the horror of what could have happened on the street; at the
knowledge that Johnny had lied; that Johnny had used Knute and Jess to cover up
his own crime.

And
because of that no-good skunk, Jess had just betrayed the best friend he’d ever
had, betrayed everything Slim had tried to teach him, betrayed everything Slim
had expected of him; thrown away every good thing he’d worked for over the past
three years.

Gone.
Washed away like water down the river.

His
only consolation was that neither Slim nor Mort, nor even Halleck, had been
hurt.

With
the tension still simmering between Jess and his friends, the cowboy turned
away to help clean up the mess he’d been instrumental in creating. He and Knute
carried Johnny’s body down to Mr. Albee’s, the undertaker; someone else brought
McDermott’s.

Jess
waited with Knute, understanding the kid’s confusion because it mirrored his
own, all the while wishing desperately that the young man could talk and
explain. None of this was Knute’s fault;he’d
been his brother’s victim, lied to for six long years. But in the end, Knute
had been the one who intervened, the one who had saved Jess’ best friends, and
for that, Jess would be forever grateful.

Finally,
when Knute seemed calm, Jess led the young man back up the street to the
boarding house, and left young Duncan in the room the brothers had shared
there. “Knute, you stay here. I’ve got some business to take care of, and I’ll
be back, well, I’ll be back when I can.” Jess paused a moment, choosing his
words carefully. “It might be a real long time, Knute. I think I’m in real big
trouble over what happened today. The sheriff might even lock me up for it,” he
tried to make his tone joking, and failed. “So, well, if you need help,
you go to Slim Sherman. He’s a good man, the best man I know. He won't let you
down.”

The
kid nodded, put his hand on Jess’ arm and smiled, conveying his thanks without
needing any words.

Jess
squeezed Knute’s shoulder in return, smiling sadly at him, then turned away,
the grim expression returning to his face as he put on his hat and headed out
the door.

He
made the long walk down the street feeling like accusatory eyes were staring at
him from every window as he stepped up on the boardwalk in front of the
sheriff’s office. Pausing outside, he took a deep breath, dreading what was
about to happen.There was no use avoiding this
moment; a man had to face up to what he’d done.He opened the door, stepped inside and quickly closed it behind him.

He
swept one quick glance around the room. Mort was there, seated in the chair
behind his desk; Paul Halleck sat on the bench beside the front door; and oh lord,
Slim was there, too, standing next to the potbelly stove, a coffee cup in his
hand. Jess still couldn’t look into the face of his friend but instead turned
his gaze to meet the sheriff’s inquiring look.

“Jess.”
Mort’s voice was low and, while not threatening, it wasn’t exactly friendly,
either. It held that warning tone Jess had heard before, the one that said he’d
clearly crossed the line and disappointed this man who was friend as well as
lawman.

Jess
took off his hat, twisting the brim nervously. God, this was so much harder
than he’d thought it would be. “Mort, I came to turn myself in.”

The
dark-haired ranch hand couldn’t bear the uncomfortable silence. “For bein’ part
of all that,” he added.

Mort
glanced up at Slim, whose face remained impassive, then over at Jess. “You shot
Johnny Duncan.” It was a statement, not a question.

Jess
nodded.

“In
defense of Knute Duncan, am I right?”

Jess
nodded again.

“So
I can’t imagine there’d be any charges on a clearly justified shooting,
witnessed by all of us. My deputy agrees with that?” he turned to Halleck.

The
deputy nodded in agreement. “Duncan fired on us.”

Jess
was confused. He pointed toward the cell block, where Harrison, the other
surviving former Reb, was already locked up. “I stood with him against you,
Mort, against the law.”

It
was the sheriff’s turn to nod. “Yes, you did Jess.” He stopped and let the
words hang in the air between them and then, finally, slowly, added. “But I
didn’t see you fire at any of us. Did either of you?” He looked at Halleck and
then at Slim; both shook their heads negatively.“Now
so far as I know there’s no law against being seen in the street with a bunch
of fools.”

“When
I was one of them?” Jess asked in surprise.

Mort
sighed. “Yes, even when you were one of them, son. That doesn’t make you
responsible for what they did.”

“Well,
I should have tried harder.” Jess chanced a look at Slim, who was seriously
studying the floor boards, his usually open face dark and solemn and totally
unreadable.

“Oh,
I agree I think you should have tried harder, but I can’t lock you up for
that.” Mort’s face was as stern as his no-nonsense voice. “Even though I’d like
to.”

Jess’
shoulders slumped in relief. “Thanks, Mort.”

“There’s
no need for thanks, Jess. I’m just doing my job,” the sheriff answered,
weariness plain in his voice.

Jess
was still twisting his hat brim. “Guess I’ll be goin’ then.” He still couldn’t
look Slim in the eye. He turned and started for the door, slapping his hat back
on his head. Just as his hand touched the door knob, he heard the shuffling of
feet behind him, the footsteps sounding oh so familiar, and he paused
hopefully. But no words were said, no brotherly hand reached out to land on his
shoulder, calling him back, and the moment passed. Resigned to living with the
consequences of what he’d done, Jess opened the door and stepped outside,
closing it carefully behind him.

Assailed
by the bright sunshine, he walked quickly down the boardwalk toward the livery
where he’d left his horse. He didn’t relish riding out alone; that solitary way
of life didn’t appeal to him anymore. Guess that was one thing he’d learned
from Slim that had stuck.

Maybe
Knute would ride out with him. He’d get his horse and then go talk to Knute.
He’d been thinking about the kid, and about an old trapper he knew, down in
Colorado territory. They’d been scouts together in the Army once, a long while
back. The man was an expert at Indian sign language, the kind of thing, it
seemed to Jess, that Knute could learn, and, though it wouldn’t be the same as
talking, he’d be able to communicate more than he was able to now.

Jess
found his horse in a stall in the back of the stable and led him out, dropping
the lead rope to ground tie the sorrel in the barn’s aisle as he tossed his
saddle up onto the gelding’s back. He’d be traveling light. He’d not brought
anything to town with him except the clothes he was wearing; everything else he
owned was out at the ranch.He sighed.
Three years ago he’d ridden into Laramie with little more than the shirt on his
back, so it seemed only fitting that he’d be departing the same way, leaving
behind all that he’d gained, and lost, here. Oh, he didn’t regret leaving
things behind, they could be replaced, but the people he’d let down, that hurt
a thousand times worse than any wound from bullet or knife.

Nothing
to do for it now, he told himself. His bridges were burned, nothing left here but
cold ashes; all he could do was drift.There was a lot of country he hadn’t seen yet. Maybe he’d go to
California this time; he’d heard it was big and wide and open.

He
was just tightening the cinch on his saddle when he heard someone enter the
barn behind him, those same familiar footsteps he’d heard back at the sheriff’s
office.

The
boots stopped a half dozen paces behind him, but Jess felt a cold shiver down
his back at Slim’s dark, angry tone. “I should have known. You’re finally gonna
do it this time, aren’t ya’? You don’t change, Jess. Things get tough and the
first thing you think of doin’ is runnin’.”

It
was an insult, and one he wouldn’t have taken from any other man alive. But
Jess couldn’t face his friend, couldn’t bear to turn around and see the
disappointment he knew would be on Slim’s face. His usual response would have
been to rise to the bait of Slim’s anger but not this time; he was tired and
worn down and bereft of hope. He had to fight to keep the tremor out of his
voice. “Reckon it’s time I moved on. I’ve been stuck here way too long.”

“Stuck?
That’s the way you feel?”

“Yeah.”

He
heard Slim take a step closer. “So you’re gonna just ride on out of here
without even saying goodbye to Daisy? Or Mike?”

“Thought
you could tell ‘em.”

“I’ll
be damned if I’ll make excuses for you!”

“Then
just tell ‘em I’m sorry but I couldn’t stay.”

“And
why not?” the thunderous tone was still there in Slim’s voice, an anger Jess
had rarely heard in three years, and underlain by something else he couldn’t
identify.

“You
gotta ask, after what I’ve just done?” Jess countered.

“So
you were a fool. You’ve been one before.”

Jess
closed his eyes, leaning forward to rest his forehead against the worn leather
of his saddle. “Not like this.”

“Now
that might be true,” Slim’s voice dropped a note lower but lost none of its
intensity. “You’ve pulled some bone-headed stunts in your time, Jess, I’ll sure
agree to that, but I thought after all this time you’d have learned at least
some sense.” Slim stopped, sighing, his voice sounding resigned, and there was
a touch of what could be pleading in the tone now, too. “I thought you’d have
figured out by now that you and me, we’re friends, partners, no matter what,
even when we disagree. Lord knows *that* happens often enough.”

But
not like this, Jess thought as he opened his eyes and lifted his head, unable
to say anything, his throat clogged.
He had to swallow and swallow again before he could whisper, “I guess I ain’t
ever gonna learn some things, Slim.”

The
rancher’s tone was resolute now. “So I guess I’ll just have to keep tellin’
ya.”

“I
can’t let you do that, Slim.”

The
tall man was puzzled. “And why not?”

Jess
spun around, his voice like gravel as he looked his pard in the face for the
first timeand admitted the thing that had
scared him the most. “Slim, I could’a got you killed out there today.” He was
glad the inside of the barn was dim, dark enough that the tall man couldn’t
read the anguish on his face.“I keep
hangin’ around here, lettin’ you stick your neck out over things I done, some
day it’s gonna happen. You’re gonna take a bullet on account of me.”

“Jess,
I’ve never kept track, but I reckon you’ve saved my life way more times than
you’ve risked it.” Slim took a step closer, keeping his voice soft. “I ain’t
sayin’ that trouble doesn’t follow you around, because it does. A blind man
could see that. And I ain’t sayin’ that I can understand what you did these
last couple a’days, because I surely don’t. You were wrong, and don’t try to
say you disagree with me because it’s plain you think so too, or else you
wouldn’t be actin’ like this, skulkin’ out a’town without a farewell to
anyone.”

Slim
paused, his voice earnest and sincere and full of hurt for this man who was his
best friend. “Jess, I can see how this has chewed you up inside. You didn’t
want to be a part of them yet, somehow, you were. But I know this, that man out
there in the street today, that was the old you, the one who rode in to Laramie
three years ago, not the one who’s here now. Don’t let this thing turn you back
to what you were; don’t let it drive you away from your home and your friends
and all you’ve accomplished here.”

“It’s
too late, Slim.”

“It’s
never too late, so long as a man’s alive.”

“Sometimes
it is.” Jess turned back toward his horse.

Slim
sighed and straightened his shoulders, all the softness suddenly gone from his
voice, replaced by stubborn determination. “I ain’t gonna let you go.”

For
a long moment silence reigned, broken only by the nearly inaudible sound of
Jess’ horse swishing its tail.

“Jess,”
Slim put his hand on his pard’s shoulder.

The
shorter man spun around. “I said….”

He
didn’t finish his sentence because Slim’s unexpected right jab was planted in
his face, the big man’s fist landing solidly on the shorter man’s left
cheekbone. Jess folded up and Slim caught him on the way to the ground. “Maybe
you didn’t learn anything from me, but I reckon I finally learned something
from you, Jess,” he muttered.

Slim
tossed Jess up into his saddle, the half-conscious cowboy instinctively
clinging to the saddle horn. Leading the sorrel, the tall rancher hurried out
of the barn and strode purposefully up the street to get Alamo, who he’d left
tied in the alley behind the sheriff’s office.

Mort
saw the rancher walk by his office and, puzzled by the sight of the dark-haired
cowboy slumped over his horse’s neck, hurried out to the street. “What happened
to Jess?”

Retrieving
his horse from behind the jail, Slim quickly mounted up and rode out of town,
still holding the reins of Jess’ horse. They were miles down the road and Slim
was starting to worry about how hard he’d hit the man when Jess finally started
to come around, slowly raising his head and peering around, dazed and confused.

Slim
pulled up and helped Jess down off the sorrel, guiding him three steps over to
sit on a low, bench-like boulder in the shade of a spindly ponderosa pine.
“Here.” Slim handed him his canteen.

Jess
took it warily, drinking deeply and wiping his mouth with a gloved hand before
handing it back. He ran a hand over his face, wincing as he touched the already
swelling cheekbone. “Reckon I had that coming.”

“Reckon
you did.” Slim paused, waiting, and when Jess didn’t say more, he added, “We
should never have been on opposite sides in this, Jess, but no matter what, I
ain’t gonna let you sacrifice your life for a war that’s been over for six
years.”

“I
could no more stay away than you could, and you know it. My two best friends
were out there, facing off against each other.” Slim paused, waiting for Jess
to answer but when he didn’t, asked softly, “What would you have done, if Knute
hadn’t stopped it?”

Jess
shook his head. “I don’t know. I would never have shot you or Mort, I couldn’t
even have shot Halleck, so… ” he looked up helplessly, his fingers twisting
inside the black gloves.

“I
figured that, after the other night. But just standing there, you’d have been a
mighty easy target. Somebody might have shot you,” Slim answered, and let the
silence hang.

“You
wouldn’t have.” It was the one thing Jess had been certain of as he’d walked
down that street, the moment so unreal he couldn’t describe how he’d felt.

“I
was mad enough I might have,” Slim threatened, knowing Jess would understand it
wasn’t true. He waited a moment, then sighed and added, “In a fight like that,
bullets flying, anything could have happened.”

“That’s
exactly why I didn’t want you t’be there.”

“I
know.” Slim sighed, sinking down to sit on the rock beside Jess. “You were
going to walk down that street and not draw your gun, weren’t you?”

Jess
shrugged. “I guess. I don’t rightly know.” He rubbed his chin with a gloved
hand. “I knew it wasn’t right,but I didn’t
know how to stop it.”

“You
could have walked away.”

“You
know I couldn’t do that. I swore an oath.”

“And
you’d rather be dead than break it.” It wasn’t a question; Slim knew the depth
of Jess’ honor. “A man gives his word, he keeps it, no matter the price. We all
understand that. But that doesn’t mean you can’t look for some other way to
settle things before they get to the point of armed men facin’ off against each
other in the street.”

Jess
kept his eyes focused on his boots.

“You’ve
got too much to live for to be thinkin’ that way,” the tall man reminded his
friend.

The
cowboy looked up. “And you don’t? You wouldn’t back down on your principles
even though you’ve got a ranch and a business to run, and people like Mike an’
Daisy who depend on you.”

“They
depend on you, too, Jess,” Slim said, his tone soft.

“It’s
not the same, Slim, an’ you know it. Somethin’ happens to me, you’re there to
take care of ‘em. I’ve always been the expendable one.”

Slim
snorted. “Where’d you get such a confounded fool notion?”

He
might as well say it now. “All my life, no matter how hard I tried to stay on
the straight and narrow, I ain’t never been more’n one short step ahead of
trouble. Someday I’m gonna stumble, and I don’t want it to be here, with my
friends watchin’ or mixin’ in, like today.”

“It’s
a friend’s job to help you when you stumble,” the rancher answered softly.

Jess
shook his head stubbornly. “It’s no good, Slim. I ain’t changed, not down deep
where it counts. What I am, what I’ve always been, shows through.”

Suddenly,
Slim understood. “And now you think you’re protecting us, me, by leavin’?” He
let his anger leak into his voice. “You think I can’t take care of myself?”

“That
ain’t it and you know it, Slim.”Jess
looked away, ignoring Slim’s question and instead posing one of his own.“You thought you could stop it, didn’t you?”

“I
hoped I could. There’s other ways to settle our differences than with guns,
Jess. The war should have taught all of us that and maybe someday we’ll be
smart enough to see it.”

Jess
sighed. “I never claimed to be smart as you.” He stood, wobbling slightly but
avoiding the steadying hand Slim offered. “You’ve been the best friend I’ve
ever had, Slim, and I’m sorry I let you down.”

“You
ain’t gettin’ away that easy.” Slim slipped between Jess and his horse,
blocking his way.

Jess
laughed bitterly. “You never give up, do ya’?”

“No.
I can’t. Didn’t you hear what I told
you the other day, when you were going to ride out? That you are as much a part
of the ranch as I am?”

“I
heard.”

“Well,
then you sure didn’t listen. I meant what I said. You’re a part of my life, and
Mike’s and Daisy’s, and hammerheaded as you are, you are a part of us we ain’t
lettin’ go.”

Jess
shook his head.“It’s too late for me,
Slim.I can’t ever forget what I done
today.”

“So,
don’t forget. Learn to live with it. Come home where you belong, Jess. We’ll
work it out.”

Slim
turned to face his pard, placing his other hand on Jess’ other shoulder, his
expression as earnest as his voice, but with a hint of good humor. “Jess, I’m
not gonna claim to understand ya’, because I’m pretty sure I never will. And
I’m not gonna say I agree with ya’, because sometimes we’re as far apart as
Washington to Richmond. But you do belong here.”

Jess
shook his head, still disbelieving. “After what I’ve done?”

Slim
nodded.

Jess
gave in.

They
mounted up then and rode back to the ranch, side by side, surrounded by a
silence that this time wasn’t heavy and awkward, but instead held promise and
trust.